


The Trials and Tribulations of the New Fushimi-Yata Household

by Insomnia_Productions



Series: Trials & Tribulations [1]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Again, Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, Fluff, I swear this will become a collection, M/M, Maybe some angst, So original I know, dammit I should be expanding the kuroshiro fanbase, eventually, idk it's 11pm and this is kind of spontaneous, misaki tries, of these dorks living togther, saru is a tsun trainwreck, vegetables are death, yet here I AM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-05-29 16:52:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 12,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6384634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomnia_Productions/pseuds/Insomnia_Productions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarumi living together and being dorks who are secretly afraid of spiders. What more do you want?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Arthropod Dilemma

  
"Saru. Saru. Saru—hey, Saru!"

  
Saruhiko sighs heavily and drags his eyes away from the papers on his desk. He's been dumped with a shitload of paperwork to get through, so much that it has spilled into late-night overtime, and he has to give it in by tomorrow morning—but, of course, a chaotic HOMRA idiot like Misaki wouldn't care. Saruhiko listens to his friend (the term used extremely loosely, given the sheer frequency of their fights and misunderstandings—oh, and the two or three times they've kissed... per day) and decides that getting whatever it is over with will be easier than wasting time arguing about it, so he places his pen down and slouches into the bedroom.

  
Misaki looks up at him as he enters, and then turns and points at the bed they share (only because they're too broke to buy another one, of course, no ulterior reasons at all, what are you talking about?).

  
"Misaki."

  
"Saru." He pauses. "There is a spider on our bed."

  
Saruhiko looks. There is, indeed, a spider on the bed. It is large, almost as large as his hand, and covered in hair. Its eight eyes gleam up at the two of them. Challenging. Mocking. Smirking.

  
Saruhiko crosses his arms. "So?"

  
"So...can't you...take it outside, or something?"

  
Saruhiko twitches slightly, moving just a fraction further from the bed. "...You're more than capable of doing it yourself."

  
Misaki crosses his arms, mirroring Saruhiko's stance. "Yes, but that involves paper and a glass and patience... and you know I'm not patient."

  
"So? That's not my problem. I have paperwork."

  
"Come on, it'll only take a minute," Misaki implores.

  
"Why should I do it?"

  
"B-because! You're my—my friend! And you owe me. For. You know. All that."

  
"...Right."

  
Misaki looks smug. "So. Go on."

  
Saruhiko looks at the spider. The spider looks at Saruhiko.

  
"I think you're just scared of it." Saruhiko's face settles into a smirk. That should do it.

  
"N-no way!" Misaki sputters, his clan color dusting his ears. "I just...don't feel like dealing with it right now."

  
"Then do it later."

  
"But...I want to use the bed."

  
"Then do it now."

  
Misaki scowls. "You're impossible, do you know that?"

  
"I'm aware."

  
"Fine, then, I raise you this—I think you're scared of it."

  
"Me? Scared of a _spider_? Don't be ridiculous," Saruhiko scoffs. "I infiltrated JUNGLE entirely on my own, with very low chances of survival—I'm not afraid of an _arthropod_."

  
"Oh, shut up with your martyr complex and your stupid...big...science words... If you're not afraid, then _do something about it!_ "

  
"I could say the same to you!"

  
"You—" A sudden movement cuts him off.

Both boys turn to the bed. The spider has moved closer. It is watching them, its legs twitching as though preparing to come closer still.

  
"S-Saru..." Misaki whimpers, inching closer to the Blue.

  
Saruhiko swallows. "...I see it."

  
"I think we should leave now."

  
"For once, Misaki, you've had a good idea."

 

.

 

Awashima Seri stops knocking on the apartment door and pulls out the spare key the Captain had made for this very purpose. Inserting it into the lock, she opens the door and steps into the shared apartment of Yata Misaki and Fushimi Saruhiko. 

  
"Fushimi-kun, you're late—" Awashima stares. The flatmates are curled up together on the floor at her feet, fast asleep. SCEPTER 4's second in command clears her throat. "Fushimi-kun."

  
Saruhiko stirs, and begins to sit up, quickly joined by Misaki. They both squint at her, the dark circles under their eyes not the only sign of their exhaustion.

  
"Awashima-san...? What time...?"

  
"Almost noon," she replies, and decides that her subordinate must certainly be exhausted—he hasn't yet thought to ask how she got in.

  
"Oh."

  
"What time did you get to sleep?"

  
Saruhiko blinks slowly, and Misaki sags against him, nose scrunched up in concentration.

  
"Um... one o'clock... maybe?" The Red answers at length.

  
Awashima frowns. "I see. And," she says, folding her arms, " _what_ are you doing on the floor?"

  
"Um," Saruhiko looks away, a light blush spreading across his face, and Awashima blames her many evenings at HOMRA entirely for the images that flash through her mind.

  
"Well?"

  
Both boys' eyes drop to the floor, and they sag even further into each other. Finally, Misaki speaks up, his voice low and dejected, to offer an explanation as to why HOMRA's vanguard and SCEPTER 4's third in command have been asleep on the floor.

  
"...There was a spider on our bed."


	2. The Kissing Exponentiality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time they kissed was a cold Thursday night.

The first time they kissed was a cold Thursday night. Misaki had been home for a while, just long enough to start worrying about the fact that Saruhiko was  _ not.  _

First, he’d settled on the couch with his PDA and pretended to be immersed in what he was doing. Eventually, when his glances toward the door had grown more frequent than his glances down at the PDA, he’d gotten up and begun pacing the apartment. Twenty more minutes of waiting had him cooking a late dinner, just for the sake of having something to do. 

He didn’t even put any vegetables in it. 

By the time another hour had passed, Misaki was back on the couch, eyelids sagging as he continued to watch the door. 

Sometime shortly before midnight, his eyes had snapped open again to the sound of the door opening, and he’d sat up straighter as Saruhiko stumbled into the room, made a beeline for the couch, and promptly collapsed against him. 

He looked  _ rough _ —despite the destruction of the Slates, SCEPTER 4 had continued to do what it had always done, and without their powers, the job had become a whole lot harder. And it was winter—Saruhiko’s worst month, by far. 

“Eh… Saru?” 

The Blue had not replied, instead letting out an incoherent grumble and leaning into the Red. Misaki had frozen up for a moment— _ who is this and what has he done with Saruhiko? _ —but had quickly decided to enjoy the moment, however unusual, by wrapping his arms around his friend and pulling him closer. To his immense surprise, Misaki had soon found himself being held back, without a single word, sigh, or  _ tch  _ out of his friend. His head rested against Misaki’s chest, his glasses lopsided on his face, and for once he didn’t look bored, annoyed, or fed up. Misaki had smiled to himself—it was at time like this that he remembered that the standoffish Blue was the younger of the two. 

“Misaki,” he mumbled, and it was without the taunting, singsong quality he’d developed in their time apart. 

“ _ Tch,  _ Saru,” Misaki replied fondly, testing out his friend’s favorite expression. “Are you okay?”

“’m fine,” Saruhiko muttered. “Drug cartel. They had guns. It was snowing and cold. And my knives are cold. And I’m cold.” He paused, his grip on Misaki tightening slightly. “And you’re warm.” 

Well—if Misaki had been concerned before, he was positively  _ anxious  _ now.  Saruhiko did not just  _ say  _ things like that. So he had forced out a nervous laugh and said, “That’s kind of sappy, Saru. Are you  _ sure  _ you’re okay?” 

The Blue hadn’t replied, going completely still, and Misaki had just about decided that he wouldn’t be getting anything more out of his friend tonight when Saruhiko had shifted again. The Blue’s head was tilted now, looking up at him, and his eyes were hard to read as always but this time Misaki had known, somehow, that he was beckoning him closer. The Red had complied. 

And then they were kissing. 

There was a moment, in the beginning, when Misaki had almost, almost jerked away, almost scrambled off the couch and asked  _ what the fuck was that _ —but then his eyes had drooped closed and he felt himself smiling into the kiss, because it felt warm and comfortable and  _ nice _ and he didn’t think he ever wanted to stop. 

But they had stopped, just a few seconds later, and then Saruhiko was back in his original position, his breaths long and steady, and Misaki had picked him up, because he’s stronger than he looks, ask anyone, and tucked him into their bed. 

Neither had mentioned it in the morning, but Misaki felt strangely light-headed when he looked at his friend, and he could have sworn he saw Saruhiko smiling slightly when he thought the Red wasn’t looking, and that was enough. 

The two kissed again a week later, in the early morning when both were still only half awake, and then again two days later, at the crossroads where they parted ways for HOMRA and SCEPTER 4. After that, the frequency of these kisses grew exponentially, rapidly becoming as much a part of their daily routine as eating, breathing, or arguing. 

They haven’t talked about it, not even once, although it’s been over a month since the first. Misaki doesn’t know what, exactly, they are now, between the fights and the kisses and the days where it seems like they exist in two different universes occupying the same space. Sometimes he wants to tie the stupid monkey to a chair and  _ make  _ him talk, make him  _ explain  _ just what he’s doing and what he wants and  _ why _ . 

But he’s learnt from years, years, years of knowing Saruhiko, that that would get him nowhere. Nowhere but  _ away  _ from Saruhiko, and as much as he dislikes this state of uncertainty, he hates the idea of losing the Blue infinitely more. 

So he waits, waits, and waits some more, and trusts that someday his friend will feel safe enough to open up to him, and finally give them the title Misaki has been waiting for. 

 

.

  
And, of course, if that takes too long, mixing every alcoholic drink Kusanagi owns into Saruhiko’s dinner is always an option. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *grins like an idiot* 
> 
>  
> 
> writing about these dorks kissing is very fun
> 
>  
> 
> also psst in case you didn't realize, the ending implies that if Misaki gets tired of waiting, he'll just sneakily get Saruhiko sloppy drunk until he gets a straightforward confession out of him and if you want me to actually write this then I totally will


	3. The Food Face-Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fushimi Saruhiko. Eat. The fucking vegetable."

It’s a face-off worse than any they ever had in their time as enemies. Saruhiko sits on one side of their small kitchen table, Misaki on the other. In front of the Blue is a small bowl filled with lettuce, carrots, a few cold slices of potato, some stalks of broccoli, and a single tomato. In front of the Red, a lone glass of plain, low-fat milk. 

“Go on,” Saruhiko says lowly. “Drink it.” 

Misaki crosses his arms. “I will if you will. You know what it is.” 

Saruhiko catches him sneaking a look of disgust at the dairy liquid, but he can’t fault the Red, as he catches this look mere moments after sneaking a disgusted look of his own down at the salad. He picks up the tomato. 

“This isn’t even a vegetable, Mi~sa~ki.” 

The Red grits his teeth. “Lucky for you, then.” He pokes the glass with his index finger, watching the white liquid slosh around inside. “...On three, then?” 

Saruhiko purses his lips. “Fine. On three.” 

Misaki lifts the glass, and Saruhiko picks up a carrot. 

“One.”

“Two.” 

They exchange a glance, a shared grimace. “Three.” 

Saruhiko raises the accursed vegetable to his lips, and his life flashes before his eyes. Specifically, his life approximately ten minutes prior to this moment…

 

_ “Saru!” Saruhiko looked up as Misaki walked over to the table and set down a steaming bowl. “I made Shepherd's Pie for dinner.” He scooped out a large chunk of the food and deposited it on the Blue’s plate. “There you go. Try it, try it!”  _

_ Saruhiko frowned, prodding the mixture with his fork. “...Is this potato?” _

_ “Um, yeah?” Misaki sat down. “It’s Shepherd’s Pie… meat and potato…”  _

_ Saruhiko blinked slowly. “Potato is a vegetable.”  _

_ “Saru,” Misaki groaned, sinking down in his seat. “Please. Please don’t do this.”  _

_ “But it’s a  _ vegetable,  _ Misaki.”  _

_ “It’s just a potato! And it’s with meat! You can’t have Shepherd’s Pie without potatoes!”  _

_ “Watch me.” Carefully, the Blue pushed the potato to one side of the plate, effectively separating it from the bulk of the meat, and then began to pick individual pieces of meat out of the mashed potato on the side of the plate. Misaki groaned again, two hands coming up on either sides of his head to tug his beanie down.  _

_ “Fushimi Saruhiko. Eat. The fucking vegetable.”  _

_ “Sure,” Saruhiko replied flippantly. “If you drink a glass of milk.” _

 

Well—how was he supposed to know the Red would actually take him up on the challenge? 

For a moment, the two sit in utter silence, watching each other as they eat. And then, almost in complete synchronization, they both begin to cough, shoving themselves away from the table. Misaki stumbles into Saruhiko’s arms, the the Blue holds him close. 

“It’s okay, Misaki,” he says quietly. “It’s over… it’s over…” 

They stay like that for a moment, and then Misaki shifts in Saruhiko’s hold, turning his head to look at the table. 

The glass is tipped over, milk spilling across the table, falling off the edges, soaking the lettuce leaves and potato strips that are also scattered across the table. The bowl is upside down, propped up by a few bits of carrot, and the tomato lies on its side on the floor. 

Misaki closes his eyes and looks away, burying his face in Saruhiko’s chest. “We’re so pathetic.” 

“Speak for yourself,” the Blue scoffs. “At least I ate the whole carrot. You only had half of the milk.” 

In under a fraction of a second, Saruhiko has been shoved halfway across the room, and Misaki glares at him, blazing red despite the absence of the Slates. 

“ _You wanna fucking go?!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well that happened 
> 
>  
> 
> This one's kind of short, oops.... but the drunken confession one WILL COME SOON so look forward to that
> 
> In the mean time, enjoy these dorks and their unhealthy diets~


	4. The Alcohol Conspiracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I need something I could hypothetically mix into a hypothetical person’s dinner to get them drunk enough to speak honestly, but not so drunk that they’d pass out or whatever. Hypothetically.”

Misaki said he would  _ wait,  _ yes. He didn’t say he would wait  _ two and a half months.  _ Eighty days, since their first kiss. Eighty days full of kisses that would have felt like heaven if not for the gnawing confusion in the back of Misaki’s mind. Eighty days. 1920 hours. And not  _ one  _ of those 115200 minutes spent talking about it. Misaki has tried, several times, to broach the subject, but to no avail; the Blue always finds a way to change the subject or otherwise shut him up. But no longer—for, today, Misaki is at his wits’ end. Today, it’s time for Plan B. 

(Unless you count all the times he’s tried already as individual plans, in which case, he’s likely somewhere around Plan S… in his second round of the alphabet.)

“Kusanagi-san!” Misaki strolls into the bar and hops onto a stool, noting with satisfaction that his feet appear to be about a centimeter closer to touching the floor than usual. 

“Ah, Yata-chan, you’re not usually here at this time. What can I do for you?” The bartender is polishing some wine glasses, lit up by the soft red lighting. 

Misaki bites his lip. Now, how can he put this… “I need alcohol.” 

Kusanagi raises his eyebrows. “That’s a first. What can I get you?”

There is another, longer pause. “...I need something I could hypothetically mix into a hypothetical person’s dinner to get them drunk enough to speak honestly, but not so drunk that they’d pass out or whatever. Hypothetically.” 

“...I see.” Kusanagi pretends to think hard. “And, this hypothetical person, would they be someone who tends not to be very open?” 

“Oh,  _ yeah _ ,” Misaki scoffs, rolling his eyes. “They don’t—I mean, they  _ wouldn’t _ —tell m- tell people anything about themselves, ever, and they’d be really frustrating because no one understands them and they don’t bother to even  _ try  _ t—” 

“Right, right, I get it,” Kusanagi laughs, holding his hands up. “I think giving you that information is, hypothetically, against my moral compass as a bar owner.” Misaki sags, and the bartender gives him a half smile, setting a vaguely bottle-shaped box on the counter. “But, hypothetically speaking, were you to take this box home for purposes unspecified to me, I would not be altogether obliged to stop you.” 

Misaki stares at him for a moment, wheels slowly turning, and then he lights up like one of Anna’s marbles in the sunlight. “Thank you!” He grabs the box and rushes to the door. He’s already halfway out of the bar when Kusanagi calls out. 

“Yata-chan…” 

“Yeah?”

The bartender smiles softly. “Never mind. Good luck.” 

Misaki grins. “What for? It’s all hypothetical.”

 

.

 

“Saru~” Misaki sets the plate down, smiling. Plan B (or S) is finally in motion—this is going to work. Definitely. 

“Misaki~” Saruhiko replies, mimicking the Red’s tone. “Someone’s cheerful. Did they finally develop an affordable cure for stupidity?” 

Misaki chooses to pretend he didn’t hear that. “I’m not  _ cheerful _ , psh, what are you talking about, I’m always like this. Not cheerful at all…” And, suddenly, he’s not. Suddenly, there’s a pit in his stomach and a voice in his head growing louder with every bite of dinner his friend takes. 

_ Alcohol loosens inhibitions,  _ the voice says, sounding like Saruhiko.  _ But that doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll like what you hear.  _

_ But,  _ Misaki thinks,  _ all those kisses have to mean something…  _

_ That flame tattoo meant nothing to him,  _ the voice spits back venomously.  _ How do you know the kisses are any different? Maybe he just likes  _ them _ , and doesn’t care about  _ you _. Maybe he’s messing with your head. Wouldn’t be the first time, that’s for sure. Maybe— _

“Misaki, I’m done. I’m going to read for a while, okay?” 

“O-okay…” Misaki deflates a little. It must not have worked. 

Saruhiko settles on the couch with a book, and Misaki hesitantly sits down beside him, fidgeting with his PDA as the silence grows too loud for him to bear. After about ten minutes, he feels a weight against his shoulder, and glances over to see that the book has been set aside, its reader having now devote his attention to hugging Misaki. Their eyes meet, briefly, the the Blue’s usually sharp eyes look glassy and dilated.

_ What. What. What. What. What. What.  _

_ Oh!  _ Misaki smiles, realizing.  _ It’s working!  _

“Mi~sa~ki~” The singsong quality has returned, although now it’s completely empty of malice as Saruhiko nuzzles his face into Misaki’s neck. The Red shivers. This is very strange. 

_...Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea…  _

“Mi~sa~ki, I have something to tell you~” The Blue continues drowsily. “It’s very… very… important…” 

Misaki gulps. “Y-yeah? What’s that?” 

Saruhiko draws back to face him, leaning closer until their noses almost touch. Misaki feels his face heating up. They’re even closer now, lips just brushing—

“You’re an idiot,” Saruhiko breathes against Misaki’s lips. 

“E-eh?!” The Red’s eyes widen and he jerks back. “W-wait a minute—” He is cut off when Saruhiko hits him on the head. Twice. His eyes are sharp and gleaming again, but to Misaki’s relief, he looks more amused than annoyed. 

“You… but…” 

Saruhiko sighs. “Kusanagi-san told me, stupid. You’ve been acting suspicious lately, so I asked him to keep an eye on you, and he told me about your dumbass plan. That was water, by the way. He gave you water. You are a  _ complete  _ idiot.”

“Oh…” Misaki’s eyes drop, and he sinks into the couch, deciding that his friend is absolutely right.  _ I knew that was a bad idea…  _

The Blue sighs again. “Honestly… have you learnt nothing about me in the past few months? I don’t like to bother talking about obvious things, but if you’re really such an idiot that you need it spelt out for you…” He leans forward again, tilting Misaki’s face up, and gives him a soft kiss. And there goes Misaki’s face again, heating up more than seats in a car on a hot summer day… 

“Saru?” 

Saruhiko  _ tch _ s , leaning back against the couch, but he doesn’t look away from the Red. “I love you, idiot. There, are you happy? Or do you need me to  _ literally spell it out for you _ ?” 

Misaki’s mouth opens and closes. And then opens. And closes. And opens. And closes. And—

And then Saruhiko is kissing him again and he forgets to think, or maybe he just doesn’t want to, because this is definitely better than thinking, and no  _ wonder  _ they never have the talk, when Misaki is so easily distracted— 

“Mmf.” Misaki pulls away, putting on his sternest expression. “Wait.” 

Saruhiko is looking at him like Misaki just won the lottery and  _ refused  _ it. “Yes?” 

“What… exactly  _ are  _ we?” 

The Blue sighs. Again. If Misaki had a penny for every time he did that, they’d be living in a mansion. “What do you want us to be?” 

“Um… b-boyfriends?” It comes out like a question, but Misaki’s bigger problem is with the stuttering and—yes,  _ again _ —the blushing.  

“That’s what we are, then,” Saruhiko responds simply, and Misaki frowns. 

“Are you okay with that?” 

“Would I have agreed if I wasn’t?” He sounds bored. “Are we done talking about obvious things now?” 

Misaki responds with a beaming smile and a kiss, and this time when Saruhiko pulls him down to deepen it, his mind is clear of worry. 

It really does feel like heaven. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyyyyyyy 
> 
> now that all the confession-y stuff is over, it'll just be the intended drabbles and weirdness from here on out 
> 
>  
> 
> Honestly, I'm surprised I got the love stuff done with so soon... usually in long fics I drag it out for ages. Then again, this is supposed to be establish-relationship drabbles so eh
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO I am so open to prompts, because I've had a bunch of ideas in the past two/three days, but I'm running out now, and I'm too lazy to look for OTP prompts online so if you want something from these two or other cameo-making characters, please tell me! I'm open to pretty much anything except smut. So yeah.
> 
> Thanks for reading~


	5. The Clandestine Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fushimi Saruhiko will not be bested by a plate of wood on wheels.

Saruhiko opens the apartment door earlier in the evening than usual, feeling tired and stressed and in dire need of a hug (although he refuses to say it out loud and will deny it in court), and is on instant alert. For the first time since he and Misaki bought the place, it is completely still and quiet. The living room is empty, the lights dim. There is no food bubbling away on the stove of the kitchenette, although, upon closer inspection, Saruhiko does find a bowl of cold ramen waiting in the microwave, which he flinches away from, because  _ ew, ramen. _

Sense of unease building, Saruhiko moves silently through the living room, approaching the bedroom with caution. Inside, he can hear an insistent tapping noise not unlike the pleasant keyboard-clicking common to SCEPTER 4 on a calmer day. It is, however, quite uncommon to this apartment—at least, it is when he’s not the one doing it. He opens the door. 

Misaki is lying on his stomach on the bed, fingers flying across his PDA, completely immersed in the faint blue light coming out of it. Saruhiko clears his throat, and receives no response. 

“Misaki, I’m home.” 

Once again, the redhead continues to tap at his PDA, oblivious to his presence. Irritated, Saruhiko climbs onto the bed and swats Misaki’s head. Finally, the Red startles, dropping his PDA and sitting up. 

“Oh, Saru! I didn’t hear you!” 

“I could tell,” Saruhiko deadpans, but Misaki doesn’t notice, because most of what the Blue says is deadpanned anyway. “What’re you doing on there? Don’t tell me you found a forum of other idiots, Misaki, you  _ really  _ can’t afford to get any dumber than you already are.” 

Misaki scowls. “I found out about this  _ amazing  _ skateboarding competition next month, so I’ve been talking to other people who’re going to compete.” 

“Ah.” Saruhiko raises an eyebrow. “So, I was right.” 

With a sigh, Misaki flops back on the bed and rolls over, retrieving his PDA and resuming his tapping. “Well, if you’re going to be like that, I’ll just keep talking to them instead.” 

“You do that,” Saruhiko replies, and walks back into the living room to wait for Misaki to relent and join him. Today, he counts twelve full minutes before he does, a disturbing deviation from the Red’s previous record of seven, but Saruhiko pushes that thought aside, instead diverting his attention to figuring out how to attain a hug without letting on that he wants one. 

 

.

 

The next day passes much the same, as does the next, and the next, and the next. On the fourth day, Saruhiko tries a “honey, I’m home,” and is greeted by a red-faced, extremely concerned Misaki, who squints at him and asks if he’s feeling all right and  _ did he get hit by some weird Strain _ , and Saruhiko appreciates the attention, despite the annoyance of the fretting. 

But on the fifth day, he’s back to square one, when he walks in to find the apartment covered in newspapers, and Misaki seated in the center of it all, cleaning his skateboard. 

“There’s a separate competition for the coolest design, too,” the redhead explains excitedly, holding up his PDA. “I want to use HOMRA’s flames, or do you think that’s too standard?” 

Saruhiko thinks that this is boring and he couldn’t care less, but he pats Misaki’s beanie-clad head and assures him that it is not, if fact, too standard. 

(It is, and painfully so, but if Misaki’s already picked a design, who’s he to delay the process any further?) 

Misaki finishes redesigning the skateboard four days later, but it doesn’t end there. Thankfully, the Red gets his practice done during the day, when Saruhiko is at work, but he’s begun to spend most the evening on his PDA, reading updates on the competition and chatting with other competitors. For all his complaints, Saruhiko finds himself missing the old chaos of their apartment, lit up with the red warmth of Misaki’s loud voice bouncing off the walls. 

Everything is quiet now, the quiet blue of glowing screens and soft, insistent tapping. 

 

.

 

On Sunday, Saruhiko has a day off work, so he gets tickets to the reboot of a movie he and Misaki once saw in middle school. 

“Oh… sorry, Saru,” is the response. “I kind of made plans to meet a couple of the other competitors today… sorry…” 

Saruhiko clicks his tongue and says he doesn’t care, he doesn’t even like this movie anyway, which is a complete lie, it’s one of the few movies he doesn’t find dull and predictable, but Saruhiko is the world’s best liar and Misaki would only feel bad if he knew the truth. 

Misaki leaves, and stays gone for most of the day. Saruhiko throws the tickets in the trash and sits down at the table to rewrite some Doumyoji’s reports in a  _ legible, adult manner _ . Every now and again, he casts a dark glance at the skateboard resting against a wall, and forms a new resolution: Fushimi Saruhiko will  _ not  _ be bested by a plate of wood on wheels. 

 

.

 

Misaki is no longer the only one lost in the luminous blue all evening. With a resolution now firm in his mind, Saruhiko begins to spend more and more time between his PDA and laptop. He will learn everything there is to know about skateboards and skateboarding, so that he will be able to talk to Misaki about this thing he loves so much, just like all these strangers he’s been talking to so much recently—and he’s certain that none of them know when, how, and why the first skateboard was invented, or how  _ exactly  _ physics can be applied for the best possible results, which puts him at an intellectual advantage over all of them. 

Of course, these strangers all have the distinct advantage of experience, which is why Saruhiko must also learn how to skateboard. He plans to accomplish this through intensive research, which is, of course, the best way to learn anything. 

_ Just wait,  _ he tells Misaki’s skateboard with every scathing glance,  _ I’m going to be the winner of  _ this  _ competition.  _

 

.

 

On Saturday, about a week before Misaki’s competition, Saruhiko decides to apply his research—all twenty-six pages of it. His takes his notes and an old skateboard he acquired at a rental store down the street, and heads into the city while Misaki is out with his new friends. 

The skateboard is placed on the ground of a fairly empty street, and Saruhiko takes a deep breath, before proceeding to hesitantly place one foot on the board and push off. For about twenty seconds, the board continues to roll forward, and Saruhiko tentatively attempts a second push. This works for all of three pushes, and then, completely out of the blue, the ground has disappeared and Saruhiko’s view of the world has very suddenly tilted, and it continues to tilt as he falls far further than should be possible. In the next instant, the world turns blue and then teal, and he feels so, so  _ cold, _ and everything goes dark.

 

.

 

In retrospect, learning to skateboard right next to a river may not have been his best idea. 

It is Saruhiko’s first thought upon waking, followed by:  _ whatever is this strange, heavy, warm thing on my chest? _

His question is answered moments later, when the strange, heavy, warm thing in question suddenly jerks up, lets out the most comical gasp, and then proceeds to fall right back onto him, nearly crushing whatever remaining breath he still possesses in a tight, albeit warm, hug. 

“...What.” 

“Saru!” The thing—Misaki, evidently—cries, holding onto him. “You’re awake!” 

"Yes," Saruhiko replies, only it comes out thickly, like his head is swamped with cotton and fog. 

Misaki laughs, releasing him, and Saruhiko notes that he is back in their bed. "You're sick again."

"Very good, Misaki, keep stating the obvious," the Blue snarks, but his scathing tone is dulled by the fact that his words come out hoarse and slurred. 

"Shit, Saru, you sound like hell." Misaki sighs, giving him a fond smile. "I couldn't believe it when I pulled you out of the river. I saw the skateboard so I assumed it would be some kid... what were you  _ doing _ , anyway?"

Saruhiko clicks his tongue and looks away. "...Nothing." 

Misaki holds up a black, spiral notebook and grins. "And what's this?" 

Saruhiko scowls to hide his blush. It doesn't work. "Nothing. Forget it." 

"You were trying to learn, right? But I thought you said it was stupid." 

"It  _ is _ stupid," Saruhiko grumbles. "Did you know the first skateboards were just wooden boxes with roller skate wheels taped to the bottom? What idiot has the time to bother with that... and in California in the 1940s and 50s... right when that country was just recovering from one massive war and entering into a power-play with another big country. And there were people wandering the streets with wheels taped to boxes. So stupid..." 

Misaki doesn't respond, and Saruhiko looks up to see the redhead staring at him with wide eyes. 

"Saru... you really researched all this..." He pauses, looking down at his hands, and then turns shy eyes on the Blue. Hesitantly, he asks, "Did you... do this for me?" 

"Tch." Saruhiko folds his arms and looks out the window by the bed. "Don't flatter yourself. I just wasn't going to lose to a wooden box with wheels on the bottom." And then, before he can stop the words from slipping out of his mouth, he adds, "Or to a bunch of idiot strangers on the Internet, for that matter." 

"Saruhiko..." Misaki sighs, but he doesn't sound annoyed or frustrated. "And you say I'm the stupid one." He reaches out a hand to tilt Saruhiko's head back to face him, leaning forward to give him a brief kiss. 

"It's not a competition," Misaki says when he pulls away, "because you'll always come first." 

Saruhiko feels his face heating up, so he rolls  over onto his side, burying his face in the pillows. "...Yeah, whatever."

Misaki smiles softly. "I'll go make you some soup, stupid monkey." 

"Get me my PDA, too."

"Yup," Misaki says, getting up. 

"And my paperwork." 

"Uh-huh." He leaves the room, and there is a brief moment of silence. 

"Oh, Misaki," Saruhiko calls, knowing the Red is waiting right outside the door, "don't even think about putting pineapples in it." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hugs saru*
> 
> poor smol child, he really doesn't know how to relationship... 
> 
>  
> 
> I have no idea if the history thing is accurate, I just did a five-second scroll through Wikipedia for it, but the idea of people wandering around with plates of wood with wheels taped to the bottom amuses me to no end. 
> 
> Oh, and this is assuming that K is set in our world, but with different technological advances, since they had a war going on in the 1940s flashback.


	6. The Karaoke Color Wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, Saru, Saru, do karaoke with me.”

Saruhiko can’t focus. 

He blames Misaki for this, of course, because ten out of ten times Saruhiko experiences the inability to concentrate on his work, Misaki is almost certainly the culprit. It’s not the  _ noise _ , per say; Saruhiko learnt a long time ago how to block out Misaki’s loudness, back in the days when they were just two bored middle-schoolers, lounging around in the Red’s chaotic household. It’s not the words, either, the inane lyrics blasting out of Misaki’s PDA and Misaki’s mouth. 

It’s just… his  _ voice.  _ Saruhiko doesn’t  _ want  _ to listen, really, he doesn’t. He just wants to get this paperwork done. And yet his papers remain unfinished on his desk while he leans back in the chair, drawn to the sounds coming from the living room. 

(Damn you, diffraction.)

Misaki’s voice is  _ loud _ , of course, loud and strong and warm, and it seems to expand as it flows out of him, spreading through the air and pushing against the walls, and when Saruhiko closes his eyes he can almost feel the whole house filling up with Red. 

“ _ Cause I’ve been waiting to smile… been holding it in for a while… take you with my if I can… been dreaming of this since a child—”  _ Misaki cuts off with a laugh, spinning into the room and collapsing onto the small couch in the corner. “Hey, Saru, Saru, do karaoke with me.” 

“No.” 

“Why?”

“I’m working.” 

Misaki rises and comes to stand behind Saruhiko’s chair, picking up the paperwork. “Doesn’t look like it.” 

“Shut up.” 

“ _ Please.  _ Just one song, I promise! And it’s really good!” He pauses. “It kind of… reminds me of us… a lot.” 

Saruhiko sighs. “Fine. Just one.” The smile on Misaki’s face is almost enough to alleviate the instant flood of regret he feels at these words— _ almost.  _

“Okay. Okay. Let me just—” He scrolls through his PDA and picks out a song. 

“Oh, I’ve heard that before. But I don’t remember all the lyrics.” 

“No problem!” Misaki holds up the PDA. “The lyrics are on here. Oh, and, you have the first verse, so get ready.” 

_ Why are we friends, again?  _ Saruhiko leans back, waiting for the words to appear on the screen. Instead, numbers flash:  _ 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…  _

Saruhiko takes a breath. 

 

.

 

_ “I… thought we were meant to be… thought it’d be you and me… standing together at the end of the world.”  _

Misaki’s jaw drops, and he tries not the stare, but fails miserably. Saruhiko’s voice is low and wavering, quite the opposite of his own, and it flows like a turbulent stream out of his mouth and into the room, streaming out of the door and into the corridor in a bubbling line of blue. 

_ “I guess that’s not what you want. I guess that I should just move on. But tell me how am I to move when I can’t even breathe?”  _

The chorus flashes onscreen, and Misaki snaps out of his reverie just in time to join in. 

_ “This is not how you make love… this is not what we signed up for.”  _ Their voices, polar opposites, blend together, turning the air purple. “ _ This is not how it’s meant to be… this is how you start a war…”  _

Saruhiko falls quiet, and Misaki begins the second verse. 

_ “You… thought I’d abandoned you… you thought that I’d stranded you… but I was right there holding your hand.”  _ Is it just his imagination, or is Saruhiko watching him with the same awe that he felt in his own eyes when the other sang?  _ “I guess you didn’t see… everything I thought we could be… I guess I never thought that you would ever leave me here all alone… oh…”  _

They repeat the chorus together, and Misaki’s expanding Red begins to settle as Saruhiko’s turbulent blue spreads up, their colors weaving together like a gymnast’s ribbons. 

The bridge begins, and, once again, Saruhiko goes silent for Misaki to sing. 

_ “Bombs are falling… world distorted… I’m still trying… so why are we fighting?”  _

His eyes flicker to the side, remembering all the nights he spent staring at the ceiling and asking that very question; every time he stood across from the Blue, battered and bruised and breathing heavily, wishing the words would leave his throat; every time he watched him walk away and begged his unresponsive legs to let him run forward and shake the life out of his old friend and scream the words at him. 

Saruhiko responds.  _ “Words destroy us… bait and toy us… I still love you… do you love me, too?”  _

In spite of himself, the Blue is getting into the song. He is frowning, and his voice sounds so despondent and hopeless and Misaki wants to drop the PDA and wrap the younger boy up in his arms and sob that  _ yes,  _ he does love him, has never stopped. Somehow, he manages to maintain composure long enough to complete the song. With each word, the Red lessens, as does the Blue, replaced by layers upon layers of rich, vibrant purple, until the plum color fills the entire apartment, spilling through the cracks under the front door and tumbling down the stairs. As the last notes echo in the room, the purple grows lighter, draining out of the windows and dissipating in the outside air. 

They sit in silence for a moment, and then Saruhiko speaks. 

“You’re right. It does remind me of us.” 

Misaki laughs. “No shit, but,” he adds, “we do sound… pretty great… together.” 

The Blue nods slowly, eyes dropping to the floor. After a moment, he takes a deep breath and mumbles, “If you want… I guess… I have time for… just… one more… song.” 

Misaki's eyes widen. "R-really?" 

"Mm." He pauses. "But... I want to pick, this time." 

"O-okay!" Misaki hands him the PDA, watching curiously as the Blue scrolls through the playlist. Finally, he stops scrolling, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face. 

"I think this one reminds me of us, too." 

"Oh?" Misaki leans forward to look. "What song?" 

The smirk widens. "Bad Romance." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my mom named this chapter 
> 
>  
> 
> bUT THE SONG THO  
> IT'S SO PERFECT FOR THEM I CAN'T EVEN—   
> (How to Start a War, by Simon Curtis)
> 
> Aaaaaanyway, I was thinking of some light angst for the next chapter? Like, Saru is wing all depressive and thinking about how happy he felt with Misaki said he'll always come first, which would usually be a good thing except that this is //Saru// and he doesn't believe he can have nice things, so maybe when Misaki asks why he's meting all moody he mumbles something about wishing he didn't love Misaki and then angst happens. Or something. Tbh knowing Miskai it'd be more like hurt-comfort. Ideas, anyone?


	7. The Ingredient Expansion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tomatoes are fruits, guys.

The red fruit sits in the middle of the cutting board, shining slightly on the side facing the kitchen lights. Misaki stands at the counter, staring fondly down at it. Today, he plans to cook an Indian curry incorporating tomatoes, but before he begins, he will take a moment to appreciate the fact that this is possible. 

After all, just a few months ago, he wouldn’t have had this opportunity. 

 

.

 

A FEW MONTHS EARLIER 

“Saru.”

“...”

“Saru.”

“...”

“Saru!”

Saruhiko looks lazily up from his PDA. “Yes?” 

“Pay attention!” Misaki crosses his arms, tilting his head towards the shelf behind him. “Otherwise I’ll just buy loads of vegetables and you won’t be able to complain, since you haven’t participated at all.” 

“You underestimate my complaining capabilities,” the Blue returns, eyes dropping back to his PDA. He’s been living with Misaki for almost a week, but this is the first time he’s been roped into grocery shopping with the Red. 

“Saru,” Misaki groans, “what are you even—”

Saruhiko holds up a hand, silencing the redhead. “Misaki. This is important.”

“Wha—”

“Tomatoes are officially fruits.” 

There is a long, heavy silence. 

“U-um… does that… does that mean that I can cook with tomatoes now? Since they’re not vegetables?” 

Saruhiko frowns, his eyes shifting over Misaki’s shoulder to take in the crate of fresh tomatoes. He squints at them for a moment, scrutinizing their round redness, and then abruptly looks away. 

“Saru…?” 

“...Fine,” Saruhiko mutters grudgingly, and Misaki’s eyes light up, and beaming smile spreading across his face. 

“R-really? Yes!” He punches the air and spins around, piling dozens of the red fruits into a plastic bag, which he deposits proudly in the cart. 

“It’s not that exciting…” 

“No, it is!” Misaki grins, bringing up a hand to wipe away nonexistent tears. “Saruhiko, this is a  _ whole new food  _ I can cook with! Think of all the  _ possibilities _ !” 

“Tch. Whatever.” 

 

.

 

PRESENT DAY

“Misaki, I’m home,” Saruhiko calls, meandering into the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?” He asks, and nearly runs back out of the flat when Miskai smiles and turns around, glowing and looking like his eyes could be replaced with throbbing heart emoticons at any moment. 

“Something with  _ tomatoes _ .” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhh this is short and not that good and I know that I already talked about tomatoes briefly before but I just felt that this was necessary and I just
> 
>  
> 
> sorry I'll have a better chapter up eventually haha
> 
> ALSO IM IN JAPAN AND I WENT TO THE FUSHIMI-INARI SHRINE AND I WAS FANGIRLING SO MUCH THE WHOLE TIME AND I GOT A BUNCH OF SOUVENIRS AND IT WAS SO GREAT


	8. The Hickey Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That," Eric Surt says with conviction, "is a hickey."

“Ah~” Misaki yawns, stretching his arms above his head and leaning back against the red couch. “It’s so warm, I’m getting sleepy.” He feels his shirt slip slightly, and absentmindedly tugs it back into place. In the next instant, the unsuspecting redhead is attacked.

“Is that what I thought it was?” One of his attackers yells, grabbing his shoulders.

“It was, it was, it  _ definitely  _ was!” Another responds excitedly.

Misaki struggles, panicked, as hands tug at his shirt. “O-oi! What’re you doing?!”

There is a gasp. “Oh my  _ god,  _ it really  _ is _ !”

Misaki jerks away. “What are you  _ talking  _ about?”

Eric Surt lifts an arm to point a decisive finger—although how he can see anything through his thick fringe and hood, Misaki doesn’t know—and points to a large blotch of purple at the base of the redhead’s neck. “That,” he says with conviction, “is a hickey.”

“Has it finally happened?” Someone asks. Misaki doesn’t know who; he’s too busy avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room. “Did you finally, ya know,  _ do it _ ?”

“Eh?!” Misaki’s eyes widen and he waves his hands frantically in front of his face, shaking his head rapidly. “N-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-NO! What are you saying?! W-w-we haven’t done… t-t-t-that…”

“ _ We? _ ” Another voice chimes in from the back. “You mean, you have a girlfriend and you didn’t  _ tell  _ us?”

“Uh, n-no…” Misaki begins, but is immediately shouted down.

“What’s her name—”

“Is she really pretty—”

“What’s she like—”

“Where’d you meet her—”

“I can’t believe you got a girl before me, you can’t even  _ talk _ to girls—”

“ _ I don’t have a girlfriend! _ ”

The chatter quiets, and then someone tentatively asks, “Is it a  _ boy _ friend, then?”

A warmth spreads through Misaki’s face and ears, and he knows that his treacherous blood really has doomed him now.

“Oh my god, you  _ do  _ have a boyfriend!”

“To think he swings that way, after all that fuss about girls…”

“I  _ still  _ can’t believe he’s in a relationship before me—”

“What’s his  _ name _ ?”

Voices swirl around him, hands tug at his arms, all clamoring for information.

“Yata, is he—”

“Yata, when did you—”

“Yata, do we know—”

“Yata-san—”

“Yata—”

“Yata—”

“ _ It’s Saruhiko _ !” Misaki yells, and then snaps his mouth shut. The noise comes to an abrupt halt, simmering down to allow a long, stunned quiet to flood the room. A dozen pairs of wide eyes blink slowly at him, completely mute, and Misaki wants to disappear into the couch forever. The silence stretches long, longer, longer, until Misaki thinks he might just spontaneously combust from the suspense. And then—

“I FUCKING CALLED IT.” The voice, sounding triumphant and smug, continues to his neighbor: “I  _ told _ you so.”

In the next moment, Misaki is forgotten as the room fills up once again with the distinct sounds of celebrating and complaining, and it’s the redhead’s turn to sit in shocked silence as his fellow clansmen begin to fish out their wallets, exchanging money back and forth.

“What… what are you doing?”

Kamamoto grins at him. “We took bets on whether or not you two had a thing for each other.”

“ _ When? _ ”

Kamamoto pauses to think. “Um… well, it started about… three years ago? It was a few months after he left. And every time someone new joined and asked up what was up with you two, we’d explain what had happened and get them to place a bet.”

“ _ Eh?! _ ”

“You can’t fault them, Yata-chan,” Kusanagi says from the bar. “You’d never shut up about him, and if anyone else called him a traitor, you’d attack them.”

“T-that’s because—”

“And it was really obvious that he liked you,” Anna adds quietly from her seat in the corner. “Totsuka-san said so the day you joined HOMRA.”

“That long, huh?” Misaki sighs. “Well, I guess you’re not wrong.”

“So?” Someone probes. “When did you finally figure it out?”

“W-well…” Misaki flushes. “Our first… k-k-kiss… was about four months ago… and we’ve been d-dating for a little over a month.”

There is a collective gasp.

“And you didn’t  _ tell _ us? Yata!”

“H-hey, well, the Blues don’t know yet, so…”

“ _ Really?  _ We have to tell them!”

“Does anyone have their number?”

“I have Doumyoji’s number—”

“ _ Call him right now. _ ”

“G-guys…”

“Shh, he’s picking up.”

“Put him on speaker!”

The Reds are gathered around a PDA, practically vibrating with excess energy.

**“Hello?”**

“ _ Doumyoji you won’t believe this— _ ”

“Yata-san and Fushimi-san are  _ dating _ —”

Through the speaker, there comes a sound of exclamation.

“They’ve been together for a  _ month _ —”

“But they’ve been kissing and stuff for  _ four  _ months—”

“Yata had a  _ hickey  _ today—”

**“Oh my god!”** Doumyoji’s voice yells through the speaker.  **“Hang on, I have to go tell everyone!”** There comes the sound of something dropping—presumably the PDA—and then the sound of running feet, followed by a distant yell:  **“Hey, guys, you won’t believe what the Reds just—”** The line goes dead. Misaki cringes.

_ Poor Saru… _

But the redhead doesn’t have time to pity his boyfriend—the moment Doumyoji cuts off, his clan surrounds him once again, resuming their barrage of questions.

“Yata, Yata, do you guys have a hate-love relationship?”

“Yata-san, does he act differently with you?”

“Yata, who confessed first?”

“Yata—”

“ _ Shut the fuck up. _ ”

.

Misaki slumps against Saruhiko, silently letting his hair be petted as they both eye their PDAs. Misaki has considered smashing his to pieces and moving to the mountains to become a hermit at least five times in the past three minutes. Resting side by side on the table, the two PDAs continue to buzz incessantly with a ceaseless flow of texts from the Reds, Blues, and, for some reason, the Silvers, all desperate for more details on the pair’s extremely complicated love life.

Misaki sighs. “We’re screwed forever now, aren’t we?”

Saruhiko nods slowly. “Yep.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahahaha well it had to happen eventually 
> 
> Ugh, it's so easy to write about Saru and Misaki, but when I try to add other characters, dialogue and stuff becomes so hard... not to mention I only know Eric and Yamamoto... that's it... that's all I know of the Red Clan beyond the main members... haha... oops... 
> 
> I feel so bad for sarumi, though. They're gonna get hell from their colleagues about this. I bet the Alphabet Squad will write hate/love doujins about them now. 
> 
>  
> 
> IN OTHER NEWS I'm in Tokyo and I don't even know where to begin... can anyone recommend good stores for anime merch?


	9. The Soap Opera Formula

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's nothing new; they've fought before.

It’s nothing new; they’ve fought before. 

Over Saruhiko’s disdain of vegetables, over Misaki’s tendency to leave drawers and cupboards open, over whose turn is it to do the laundry and whose job it is to  _ get that accursed spider off the goddamn bed again.  _

And it’s not like they didn’t fight as kids—hell, they’re only together  _ now  _ after a four-year-long mess of pain and anger and hurt.

But this fight is different. It’s their first real fight as a couple. They’ve been together for almost five months now, and Saruhiko knew that, statistically, it was bound to happen sooner or later, yet that rationalization does nothing to ease the pit in his stomach. 

In his defense, it’s not his fault. It’s not like he never told Misaki where he kept all the knives. There are four in his desk, five in various places around the bathroom, three taped under his chair at the table, three taped under the couch… he even gave the redhead the full list, complete with a bird’s-eye-view diagram of their apartment with all the locations indicated with a red highlighter. And if Misaki is careless enough to get himself injured, well, Saruhiko can hardly be held responsible for that, can he? And yet the Red got so angry… 

And then there was the thing about trust. Misaki went on a whole tangent about trust, asking the Blue why they even  _ need  _ knives, and why is it that he doesn’t even feel safe  _ living with his boyfriend _ , who also, may he remind Saruhiko,  _ has fucking fire powers.  _

Misaki should know, by now, not to take it personally. He should know that Saruhiko cannot feel safe without making sure that he has a back-up plan for every possible situation. He should know that surrounding himself with his best weapons keeps Niki’s ghost away. 

He should know this—and yet Misaki seemed so upset, closer to tears with every rationale Saruhiko offered. At the time, the Blue wasn’t altogether worried, but the Red hasn’t spoken to him in hours, having holed up in their bedroom with his PDA and a large bandage on his arm, and as the afternoon stretches on, Saruhiko begins to wonder if he might, in fact, have done something wrong. The look on Misaki’s face keeps flashing in his mind, and with a sinking stomach, he realizes that it’s the same expression he made when Saruhiko left HOMRA. What if he’s done it again—screwed up so badly that even Misaki can’t forgive him again? The redhead has always been so passionate about trust and family and togetherness, so how could he love someone who only knows how to be alone? 

Suddenly, the house feels hot and stifling, and Saruhiko snatches up a jacket and stumbles outside as the light dims and the air turns cold. He wanders for hours, absorbed in the hurricane of his thoughts that pop up likes shards of glass in his mind, singsong and taunting in Niki’s voice. 

_ You’ve really done it, this time. Who keeps knives in the  _ closet _?  _

_ This is entirely your fault, you know. It’s a wonder Misaki’s still with you.  _

_ But for how long? The two of you are complete opposites. You fight all the time, you have different values, and just look at your history. You can’t even bring yourself to feel safe in your own home, even with him right there, watching out for you.  _

_ Who’d want to live with someone so broken they can’t even trust their own boyfriend?  _

_ Look at you. You’re a completely fucked-up trainwreck, my little— _

“Saru!” 

Saruhiko looks up from the wall he has apparently slid down to see Misaki running towards him. The redhead skids to a stop before him, breathing heavily. 

“ _ There  _ you are! I’ve been looking  _ everywhere _ . What the hell are you even  _ doing _ out here?” 

“I was thinking,” Saruhiko replies quietly, gazing in shock at the other. “I lost track of the time.” 

“Ah.” Misaki sighs, looking relieved, and slumps down beside Saruhiko, leaning against the wall.

“I… I’m confused,” the Blue says after a moment. “Why are you here? Aren’t you angry?” 

“Of course I’m angry,” Misaki huffs, casting a brief glance to his injured arm. “But I came out of our room and you weren’t there and it got so late and I thought… I thought you’d left again. And I was so scared that I forgot to be angry… and, besides, you know I can’t stay mad at you for long.” 

_ What?  _ The explanation only leaves Saruhiko feeling more confused. “You mean… you  _ don’t _ want me to leave?” 

Misaki turns to face him, looking as bemused as Saruhiko feels. “What? Why the hell would I want  _ that _ ? I love you, you stupid.” He cracks a grin at the shell-shocked expression on Saruhiko’s face, leaning over to wrap his arms around him, holding on tight. “Even if you’re a frustrating hot mess with massive trust issues,” the Red adds, his voice muffled against the Blue’s shoulder. 

Saruhiko feels his lips tugging up into a smile, and, just this once, he lets it happen. 

Just this once, he lets himself believe that things will turn out all right, this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hugs them both*
> 
> oh my GOD these children are so angsty and precious and it hurts my heart
> 
>  
> 
> also I appear to have become incapable of writing longer chapters IM SORRY


	10. The Morning Sap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Misaki opens his eyes, he is greeted by what has become one of his favorite sights.

Misaki wakes with memories of a cold night and droplets of hot chocolate on soft pajamas, and limbs tangled together under the sheets in a ball of warmth. They're not so close now, the temperature having risen during the night, but when Misaki opens his eyes, he is greeted by what has become one of his favorite sights. 

Saruhiko cannot function in the mornings without coffee, so Misaki almost always wakes up first to make a cup for the Blue, and yet he never tires of seeing his boyfriend sleeping with his hair in a mess and his glasses off, and his face peaceful and unguarded—although Misaki knows he only looks that way because he has knives hidden under the mattress, which he sharpens and replaces once a week. 

It's funny—if you'd told him a year ago that he'd someday be waking up every morning beside Saruhiko and feeling that much happier for it, he'd have, well, he'd have coughed and blushed and stuttered, and then he'd have punched you and walked away. And now, here he is, six months into a relationship with the Blue and slowly turning into a complete sap about it. 

Certainly, they've had their ups and downs. People say that couples fight all the time, but Misaki doubts that any other couple actually fights  _ all the time _ . Then there's Saruhiko's trust issues and unwavering belief that nothing good in his life can last, and Misaki's frustrating lack of sight when it comes to the people he cares about. Together, they're like a soap opera, every episode beginning with misperceptions and angst and drama, and ending with hugs and kisses and  _ I love you' _ s. Still, Misaki wouldn’t want things—or Saruhiko—any other way.

Saruhiko shifts in his sleep, and his shirt slips to reveal his old, burnt HOMRA flame. To the Blue, it represents his decision, his path. It represents the years of pain and miscommunication they spent apart, searching for each other in the dark. 

But to Misaki, the mark symbolizes how they went through all of that and survived it, how they were able to move past everything that had happened to create something new. He used to hate it, but now he loves Saruhiko's burnt flame. 

Misaki reaches out a hand, gently trailing his fingers over the scorch marks, and Saruhiko opens his eyes. 

"What're you doing?" The Blue mumbles drowsily, and Misaki shakes his head. 

"Nothing. Just thinking about how much I love you." 

Saruhiko frowns. "Pfft. Idiot." He closes his eyes and goes back to sleep, but as he does so, he bring up a hand to curl around Misaki's, and shuffles closer to the Red. 

 

.

 

Misaki smiles. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaand here's ANOTHER pathetically short chapter 
> 
>  
> 
> in other news Misaki is the world's biggest sap, but in his defense he kinda has to be to make up for Saruhiko's... Saruhiko-ness


	11. The Variety of Ways to Say "I Love You"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times Misaki and Saruhiko say, "I love you," and one time they use the words 'I', 'love', and 'you'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE: The parts with strikethroughs are things said quietly, so the other can't hear

"...And then this _asshole_ insults my beanie!"

“...”

"Hm. Maybe he has a point. I mean, I _am_ twenty now, not a kid anymore..."

“...”

"Maybe the beanie _is_ stupid. And the skateboarding. _You're_ always saying it is. Maybe I should just stop..."

"Don't do that."

"Huh?"

"I like your beanie. And your dumb obsession with skateboarding."

"Oh. Wow. That’s really... thanks, Saru."

"You're welcome."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Besides, I didn't fall in a river and nearly drown just for you to drop it now."

"Aaand, there is it."

 

.

 

"Saru~"

"What are you doing."

"Hugging you~"

"Obviously. But why from behind?"

"Dunno. Just trying something new."

"Are you drunk?"

"No! Jeez, I don't even drink..."

"Then...?"

"Well, _someone_ has to be loving in this relationship."

"I'm loving."

"I-I'm sorry, _what_ was that?"

"I am. Remember when I let you put away some of my emergency knives? Almost all of them, in fact, just because you were upset about them and I didn't want you to be. And I took down my alarm systems—which intelligence agencies across the globe would kill for, may I remind you—and replaced them with ordinary locks, because you got tired of accidentally triggering the alarms. _And_ I've started talking to you about things. Sometimes."

"That's not even couple-specific, that's just normal stuff!"

"Not to me. Putting my knives and alarms away was like cutting off my hands. And talking about myself is like walking naked on the streets. But I did it, because you asked me to."

"...Oh. Saru. I never... thought of it that way."

"Of course you didn't. You're an idiot."

"And, there goes the moment. Maybe I _am_ an idiot. Only an idiot would willingly date _you_."

"Thanks, I really do try."

 

.

 

"Misaki—"

"No."

"But, Misaki, I'm—"

"No. Shut up. Get back in that bed."

"I have to _work_ —"

"SCEPTER 4 can survive without you for just one day. Now lie down and stop talking."

"I'm fine—"

"You're _sick_. This is what happens when you never eat or sleep. Jeez, and you call me the idiot."

"Misaki..."

"I told you to shut up, didn't I? I'm going to make you soup— _yes_ , that soup, and you'd better eat the fucking pineapples—so just rest and _put that PDA down,_ Fushimi Saruhiko, I can _see_ you trying to work under that blanket."

"You're not my mother, Misaki."

"Yes, and thank God for that, or you'd be off fainting into your paperwork right now."

"..."

"I'm your _boyfriend_. Let me take care of you."

"...Tch. Fine."

"Don't look so dismal, Saru. You're the biggest attention whore I know. At least be grateful, now that you're getting all my attention."

"...Hmph."

"Ch. Stupid Monkey. Where would you be without me?"

  


.

 

“Saru? Is that you?”

“Of course.”

“Why are you awake?”

“I was waiting for you.”

“...”

“You’re late.”

“Yeah, sorry. You’ve just been sitting here in the dark?”

“...”

“Idiot… let me get the lights, hold on.”

“Misaki. You’re limping.”

“You can’t even _see_ —”

“I can hear. You’re limping.”

“W-well… yeah… but it’s fine. Where’s the switch—ah.”

“...”

“Saru? Look. I’m not even bleeding.”

“What happened.”

“Eh, just a gang we crushed last month. Back for vengeance and all. They got me on my way home.”

“You didn’t call for back-up.”

“Didn’t need it, as you can see.”

“You’re limping.”

“I _know,_ but it’s _fine_. Really. I’m not hurt at all!”

~~“But you could have been.”~~

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Just call for support next time.”

“I told you, I don’t _need_ —”

“Call me, at least.”

“I don’t—”

“Please.”

“...”

“...”

“A-all right. Fine. I’ll call you.”

“...”

“I promise. Okay?”

“...Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“...”

“Heh. You were really worried about me, huh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re my only source of adequate food.”

“Love you, too.”

 

.

 

“...You don’t have to stay, you know.”

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to stay and take care of me. I’m fine on my own.”

“No you’re not. You’re a hot mess on your own.”

“But I can get by. I managed before I met you, and after… that.”

“Ha, _barely_. Don’t kid yourself, Saru. You’re hopeless without me.”

“I’m always sick. You can’t stay home every time.”

“Yes I can.”

“Don’t you have a job to attend to? HOMRA’s a bunch of hooligans and slackers, but even they have standards.”

“Insulting HOMRA won’t get me to leave you, Saru.”

“...”

“Come on. I know I’ve been an idiot in the past, but I get you now. You can’t trick me like that anymore.”

“I’d applaud you if this news weren’t so disappointing. Don’t worry, I’ll come up with new ways to get around you.”

“I look forward to it. Want to watch a movie on the couch?”

“Want to go out into the world and leave me to wallow in my misery?”

“The world? Ch. You _are_ my world.”

“...”

“So I think I’ll stay right here, thank you very much.”

“...Okay.”

~~“Heh… you know how to get around me, Saru. But I know you, too.”~~

 

.

 

“Mm… this is nice.”

“Mm-hm.”

“I don’t know why we wasted so many years fighting when we could have just done _this_.”

“...”

“Sometimes I still can’t believe it… I feel like I’ll wake up one day and I’ll still be living alone and telling myself I hate you.”

“...”

“Every time I wake up and you’re still here, I feel so _happy._ You make me so happy, Saru.”

“You’re a fucking sap. It’s disgraceful and you should be ashamed of your cheesy self.”

“Shut up. It’s your fault, anyway, for making me love you.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“...”

“...”

"You know, people say things like, like... _I'm so in love with you, it hurts_... and I'm in love with you, but it doesn't hurt, even when it does."

"That makes no sense."

"It doesn't have to."

"I'm legitimately concerned for your health and sanity."

"I love you, Saruhiko."

"..."

"..."

"...I love you, too, Misaki."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omfg these precious dorks 
> 
> Also I WENT TO AKIHABARA YESTERDAY AND I GOT SO MUCH K STUFF MUCH EXCITE  
> I got this big keychain thingy—you know, the flat ones?—that had smol middle-school Misaki sitting in a giant sundae and holding onto a cherry and it's SO FREAKING CUTE I CANNOT EVEN 
> 
> Oh and today we went to the fish market and our guide was called Ōba and my dad called him Oba-san and he couldn't understand why the guide's friends and I were cracking up so much


	12. The Flower Complication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I... need some... advice."

"Hey, guys?" 

Expectant eyes gaze back at him, and Misaki flushes. 

"I... need some... advice." 

Eyebrows are raised, probing questions that conjure up  _ unwanted images  _ in Misaki's mind asked silently. 

"What d'ya need?" Chitose asks at last. 

Misaki fidgets. "I want to do something, um, romantic... for Saru. But I'm not sure how to do that, exactly? So, yeah?" And there he goes again, turning statements into questions. 

"Something romantic? For  _ Fushimi _ ? You sure about that?" Dewa asks dubiously. 

"W-well... yeah." 

"But he's so..." Dewa trails off, shrugging helplessly. " _ Him _ ."

"Yeah," Misaki laughs. "But you know the Blues are being stretched thin with work recently, and you know Saruhiko always takes on more than he should. He's stopped sleeping again... he thinks I haven't noticed, but I have. Sometimes he doesn't even come home at all. I want to do something for him, and domestic romance was the one thing I could think of that he wouldn't be too annoyed by." 

"The one thing, huh? High maintenance much?" 

"Eh." Misaki shrugs. "It's worth it." 

"Really? Worth it?" Chitose squints at him. "What kind of amazing sex are you having that it's  _ worth it _ ?" 

"N-n-n-none! That's not what I meant!" 

"Are you  _ sure _ —"

"Yes! I'm sure! I was talking about  _ him _ !" Misaki's voice drops to a mutter, and he averts his eyes from the questioning gazes of his friends. "I... really like who he is, as a person. Even if he's an asshole most of the time." Somehow, he finds the willpower to look up again. "T-that's why I want to make him feel better."

"Yata-chan."

"Hm?" Misaki turns to the bar, and Kusanagi smiles at him from behind a freshly polished wine glass. 

"You're a good boyfriend," the bartender says, setting down the glass. Misaki opens his mouth to thank him, but Kusanagi continues softly, "I think Totsuka would be proud of the person you are now." 

The room goes silent, the air thick, and Misaki's eyes light up with happiness and a thin sheen of saltwater, silently conveying his gratitude to his older friend. 

"S-so, Yata-san," Kamamoto begins, breaking the tension, "you want advice on what to do, right?" 

 

.

 

"All right, Yata, you can do this," Misaki tells himself firmly, hovering beside the dining table. In his hands, he clutches a blue rose tightly, just evading the thorns. The florist had offered to remove them, but given the recipient, Misaki thought that the defense was only fitting. 

"Do what?"

Misaki nearly yelps, spinning around to see his boyfriend dropping his coat onto the couch. 

"S-Saru. I didn't hear..." The surprise wears off, and a burst of irritation sets it. "Dammit, I told you to stop sneaking in like that! Why can't you just walk in like a normal person?" 

"What would be the fun in that, Mi~sa~ki~?" 

"Ch." Misaki grits his teeth, ready to snap back, but his gaze falls upon the dark bags under Saruhiko's eyes and the folder full of unfinished paperwork in his arms, and he remembers what he's been waiting for since the afternoon. 

"Ah, um, never mind. We can talk about it another time..."  _ Come on, you can do this!  _ "I-I... um..." 

"Yes...?" 

_ He's your boyfriend already, dammit, this shouldn't be so hard... _

"Misaki?" 

"W-w-w-what's your sine? It must be p-pi/2 because you're the one!" His grip on the rose tightens, and Misaki keeps his eyes fixed on the flower, watching its petals tremble. 

"What." As usual, Saruhiko is perfect in his completely deadpan declaration of disbelief. Misaki will have to try harder. 

"Um… a-are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile." 

Saruhiko says nothing this time, instead opting to stare at him silently, and Misaki steels himself for one last attempt. 

“I-if I were a traffic light, I’d turn red every time you passed by, just so I could stare at you a bit longer.” 

The silence stretches long after the last syllable has faded from the air, and Misaki dares to sneak a glance at his boyfriend. The moment their eyes meet, Saruhiko smirks. 

"It's finally happened. Your utter stupidity has been pushed so far, it's driven you into legitimate insanity. I'm almost impressed." 

This time, Misaki is the one staring, and then his face twists into a scowl. "You know what? Fuck it. The others were right. There's no point trying to do nice things for you, or trying to be romantic for you, because you're a fucking asshole and you don't care anyway." His hands fall to his sides, and the rose drops to the floor. "Have fun with your paperwork." 

Misaki turns and walks out of the room, storming into the bedroom and faceplanting into his pillow. 

_ That fucking idiot... _

 

.

 

Saruhiko sets his paperwork down on the table and picks up the rose. It's blue, the color of his PDA screen, and the thorns are still on. 

_ Oh, _ Saruhiko thinks.  _ Fuck _ . 

 

.

 

"I... need some... advice." 

Every jaw in the Alphabet Squad drops, and Saruhiko grimaces. 

Still, what other option does he have? He slept on the couch last night, and Misaki was already gone by the time he woke up, a new level of dedication to anger for the Red. 

"Don't worry, Fushimi-san!" Domyouji assures him confidently once the situation has been explained. "We'll definitely help you fix this!"

Saruhiko thinks he's going to regret this. 

 

.

 

Saruhiko regrets this. 

So, so much. 

 

.

 

The Alphabet Squad, being on their lunch break, quickly split into two groups in the room. Hidaka pulled a whiteboard out of thin air and began rapidly brainstorming ideas, with Benzai, Enomoto, and Goto all crowding around him to add to the list. 

Meanwhile, Akiyama was typing furiously into a computer, following rapidfire instructions from Domyouji about which websites to visit, until there was a different site about flower meanings on each screen in the room. Kamo and Fuse stood beside them,  _ hm _ -ing over the options.

Saruhiko sat in the midst of it all, looking around in utter confusion and wondering what had possessed him to ask for help from this bunch of lunatics. 

It only got worse once their lunch break ended, when Munakata and Awashima came in to see what all the fuss was about and decided to get involved, too. 

Now, he hovers nervously outside his apartment door, hardly able to see it through the mass of flowers in his arms. The bouquet is really something—almost exclusively red, it is speckled with the occasional splashes of other colors, and all of it comes together to form a formidable weapon, almost overflowing from his grasp as he tries not to drop anything. 

_ Ding-dong.  _

Saruhiko hates that doorbell. It’s so…  _ expected.  _

The door swings open.

 

.

 

Misaki’s jaw drops. 

 

.

 

For a moment, Misaki thinks the landing is on fire. Then he registers the scent rising from the flames, as well as the plastic and the ribbons, and the pale arms holding them, and reassesses the situation. 

“...Saru?” 

The mass of flowers shifts slightly, tilting down to reveal the Blue’s face. 

“Uh. You’re… early?” 

“Yes.” 

“Um… Saru?” 

“Yes?”

“What… what exactly  _ is  _ all that?” 

Saruhiko closes his eyes and sighs—a deep, long sigh—and then opens his eyes and begins to recite in perfect monotone: 

“These ones, here, are lilacs. They symbolize first love.” 

Misaki’s eyes widen. The Blue continues. 

“These are roses. The red ones represent love and passion. Obviously. The yellow ones are for friendship, and the white ones are for purity.” He shifts the bouquet slightly, eyes roaming over the assortment of flowers. “This is an amaranth flower, symbolizing immortal love.” Misaki can tell that he’s trying to hide it, but the Red catches Saruhiko’s slight grimace at the words. Nonetheless, he continues, “These are amaryllis blooms, symbolizing pride, and these are bleeding heart flowers, for fidelity. This one is an eremurus, for endurance, and next to it is a yucca flower, for a best friend.” He pauses. “These… are blue hyacinths, symbolizing undying devotion… and the ones next to them are purple hyacinths. They mean… they mean ‘I am sorry, so please forgive me’.” 

Misaki’s jaw drops even further.  _ Did I really just hear that?  _

“Up here are forget-me-nots, for obvious reasons, and these are love-in-a-mist flowers, meaning ‘you confuse me’. This is a blazing star bloom, meaning ‘I will keep trying’, and this is a variegated dahlia, meaning ‘I think of you constantly’.” His voice drops, and he shuffles slightly, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. “These are yellow tulips. They mean… that… there’s sunshine in your smile. And, lastly, this is a red chrysanthemum. It means ‘I love you’.” 

Misaki’s mouth opens and closes. And opens. And closes. And opens. And closes. And—

“W-what… is all this?” 

There is a pause, and when Saruhiko speaks again, his voice is a barely audible mutter. “I’m not really good at… relationships… and all that. But… thank you.” 

“Huh? What for?” 

The Blue’s voice becomes quieter—if that’s even possible—and he mumbles, “Loving me.” 

 

.

 

Saruhiko lowers the bouquet just in time to see Misaki’s face melt from disbelief to affection.

“Aww, you’re welcome.” The Red pauses, looking from Saruhiko to the flowers and back again. “That… must have been really hard to remember. And to  _ say _ ! I’m impressed.” 

He reaches forward, taking the bouquet with one hand and patting Saruhiko on the head with the other. 

“Now, come on, I’ll put this inside, and then—”

“Wait.” 

Misaki shoots him a puzzles glance, and Saruhiko reaches into his coat and pulls out the blue rose. Its petals are a little ruffled, and it looks a little droopy, but he slides it into the center of the bouquet and smiles. 

“There. Now it’s complete.” 

Misaki’s whole face lights up, and his smile really does carry the sunlight. 

 

.

 

At SCEPTER 4’s headquarters, the Alphabet Squad, Awashima, and Munakata view the exchange on their largest screen through a secret camera hidden in Saruhiko’s jacket. They watch with bated breaths as their comrade runs through the list of flowers, and nearly fall out of their seats when they hear the last seven flowers, ones they hadn’t told him about.

They all cheer at the adoring expression on Misaki’s face, and when the scene closes with a long, sweet kiss, well, it’s only fitting for Munakata to pop the champagne. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nO BUT THEY TOTALLY SAVED THE VIDEO ON LIKE FIFTEEN DIFFERENT HIGH-SECURITY DEVICES AND SENT SEVERAL COPIES TO ALL THE REDS AND THEY ALL FANGIRL ABOUT IT TOGETHER AND YEAH 
> 
>  
> 
> also can we just take a moment to appreciate Saru going through all those flowers in perfect monotone (except the last ones, ofc)
> 
> I did so much research on this I s2g and I just  
> flowers, man  
> what is _up_ with flowers?   
>  There's even a plant to say "keep it to yourself" wtf


	13. The Female Interruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her eyes are wide and violet, and they roam all over Saruhiko,.

Her eyes are wide and violet— _ contacts, obviously _ , Misaki thinks petulantly—and they roam all over Saruhiko, who is looking the other way, wholly absorbed in a winded rant about something work-related. Doumyoji’s reports or Hidaka’s friendliness or Munakata’s disregard for personal space—one of those, Misaki is sure, although he hasn’t been listening at all, his attention focused on the girl sitting a few feet away. She is smirking as she takes in the Blue, the way Neko looks at the pancakes Kusanagi’s always coerced into cooking for her. It’s almost scary. 

Slowly, her eyes slip from the Blue to meet Misaki’s gaze, and he narrows his eyes at her.  _ Back off.  _ The girl only smirks and continues checking out Saruhiko. Miski wants to punch that glossy smirk off her stupid hot face. For a moment, he wonders if this is how Saruhiko felt whenever Aya was around. 

(Although, to be honest, this is probably how  _ everyone  _ felt when Aya was around.)

“Misaki?” 

“H-huh?” Misaki tears his gaze away from the girl to look at the Blue. 

“You’re not listening.” 

It’s not a question. “No, sorry.” 

“No matter, nothing you haven’t heard before.” Saruhiko sighs. “Well? What is it? Your face looks like death itself.” 

“Ah… nothing much. Just… that girl…” 

Saruhiko glances over his shoulder. The girl winks at him. Saruhiko turns back to Misaki and he looks far more smug than he should. 

“Hm, Misaki, didn’t peg you as the possessive type.”

“W-well…” 

The Blue’s eyes light up. “I suppose there’s only one way to sort this out, hm?” 

“I-is there? What’s tha—” The Red is cut off by a kiss. 

_ Ah. That makes sense.  _

Misaki counts two seconds… three… four… five… six… seven… eight… nine… ten.  _ With _ Mississipis.

(He’s not entirely sure how he hasn’t yet passed out from lack of oxygen, in fact.)

Saruhiko breaks the kiss, and they both glance over to see the girl staring at them with her roaming eyes now fixed and wide, and her smirking mouth hanging open. 

“I’m bored of this place. Let’s go home.” 

“H-huh? Oh… y-yeah…” Misaki scrambles up and rushes to catch up to Saruhiko, who is striding away, one hand in his pocket. Misaki reaches forward to take ahold of his other hand, interlocking their fingers, and practically preens when he receives a soft smile in return. 

As they round the corner, Misaki sneaks one last look over his shoulder at the girl. She is watching them, still, her pretty face all twisted in a scowl. 

Misaki shoots her a grin and sticks out his tongue. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> possessive miski omfg   
> and ofc saru has the best possible ways of dealing with unwanted attention ^-^
> 
> IM ALMOST DONE   
> ONLY ONE CHAPTER LEFT GUYS 
> 
> *cries a little* 
> 
> I don't want it to end...


	14. The Kitchen Destruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrusting his hands out in front of him, he blurts....

Saruhiko stands in the kitchen with a recipe book in one hand and a big spoon dripping with Italian dressing in the other and tells himself he knows what he’s doing. 

(He doesn’t.)

Well. It’ll be all right. Even if he messes up, he has time. He made sure to leave work extra early today, just to ensure he has the time to make an adequate dinner for Misaki. 

Saruhiko sets down the book for a moment and shivers. He’s pleased to have gotten leave, of course, but the fact remains that, in order to do so, he had to tell his colleagues  _ why. _

It’s the eyes that did it, really. The wide eyes, dilated eyes, roaming eyes, crawling all over his boyfriend when they’re out in public. Yes, he knows that he receives them, too, but a quick scowl is usually enough to turn away the faces of everyone in a ten-mile radius. Misaki, on the other hand, never notices, and his bright smiles and laughing eyes only make the gazes of strangers linger longer. And, yes, of course Saruhiko  _ trusts  _ Misaki, trusts that he would stammeringly shoot down these eyes that follow him, were they to approach him. 

Still. A nice little set of legal documents and a shiny ring declaring that Misaki is his and everyone else can just  _ back the fuck off  _ couldn’t hurt. 

They wished him  _ luck _ , when he explained, and then crowded around to pat his shoulders and ruffle his hair and cheer him on. 

The horror. 

Nonetheless, he survived, and now he has bigger problems. Dinner. Saruhiko looks down at the book, to the pages open on the recipe for a simple dish of grilled chicken. It’s only three steps!

_ Next, cut the bell peppers and zucchini and place them with the chicken to be grilled. _

Saruhiko smiles thinly and puts the chicken in for grilling,  _ sans vegetables.  _ He wants to do something sweet for Misaki, yes, but there’s only so far he’s willing to go.

 

.

 

“What the  _ fuck  _ did you do?!” 

_ In hindsight _ , Saruhiko muses as Misaki gazes around his kitchen in despair,  _ trying to make a cake at the last minute may have been a mistake.  _

Misaki turns to him with blazing eyes, gesturing weakly at the mess of flour, egg, and batter splattered all over the counter, stove, walls, and floor. 

“Seriously! What. Did. You. Do.”

Saruhiko bites back a cutting response. He’s already screwed up once, he  _ cannot _ afford to sour Misaki’s mood any further. So, instead, he turns his eyes away from the other’s, blinking down at the floor and shuffling with his hands in his pockets—there’s cool, smooth metal in one of them—and wondering how to broach the subject. 

“Saruhiko?” Misaki says suspiciously. “You’re not being snarky. What’s up?” 

Saruhiko only shuffles more. He feels lost and unsure, two emotions the Blue is usually so careful to keep in check. But this is something new, something he never could have imagined for himself, and for the first time in his life, he can’t  _ pretend  _ his way out of it. 

“Saru?” Misaki probes again, and Saruhiko breaks. 

Thrusting his hands out in front of him, he blurts, “ _ Will you marry me? _ ” 

Misaki’s eyes go wide and his mouth opens, and he stares in silence at the small object resting in Saruhiko’s outstretched palms. 

The ring is a dull gold, almost bronze. It’s simple, twisting up in one location to form a winding set of strands. Nestled between these strands is a red stone. Unlike the dulled band, the stone is rich in color, and glints under the kitchen lights. Saruhiko sees it reflected in Misaki’s eyes, forming a circle within his pupils. 

The Red doesn’t speak. 

Slowly, painstakingly, Saruhiko curls his palms closed and lowers his arms, sliding his hands back into his pockets. 

“Sorry,” he says quietly, the word surprising him as it slips unbidden from his lips, and he steps around Misaki and towards the apartment door. 

_ Well, fuck. What the hell do I do now?  _

As it turns out, he never learns the answer to that question.

Moments before he reaches the door, a weight hits his back and arms are flung haphazardly around his neck, and he manages to turn around in time to be showered in smiles and laughter and a bubbling stream of  _ yes yes yes.  _

Now it’s Saruhiko who simply stares, wide-eyed, but it’s okay because Misaki is laughing and Misaki is smiling and Misaki is saying  _ yes _ , and Niki was wrong all these years because Saruhiko is  _ happy,  _ so happy he thinks he will surely burst because no one person could possibly contain this much emotion, and this time he  _ knows  _ it’s going to last. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JDHFDJHFIUERHFVIUEHUCHEUC S C R E A M I N G
> 
>  
> 
> daaaaamn this was fun to write 
> 
>  
> 
> also WORRY NOT  
> This is the LAST CHAPTER of this fic, but THERE WILL BE MORE  
> I'm so not ready to leave these two and I love writing this waaaaaay too much, so suffice to say this this is the end of the Fushimi-Yata Household drabbles, but only the beginning of the Wedding drabbles, not to mention the Fushimi-Yata Married Household drabbles!
> 
> I've decided to make this into a series. The next set will be the wedding-related drabbles, and the third will be as many married-life drabbles as I can think of, for as long as I can think of them~ 
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, I should end this now, so... thanks to those of you who hung along for the ride! Your comments and likes mean a lot to me, and I hope you enjoyed reading about these dorks as much as I enjoyed writing about them.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this Drabble, and the ones that I PROMISE will eventually turn up...probably...
> 
> Please comment if you like it, your approval fuels me!


End file.
